The complex reality of a simple fishing village

Isolation and the drug trade undermine progress in an idyllic setting

By Roger Hamilton, Sandy Bay, Nicaragua

"You say you need a dock?" said Hans Gatz, rising from his chair. He waited for the phrase to be translated into the indigenous Miskito language. Several of the community leaders leaned a little closer. A dog trotted across the space between Gatz and his audience.

"With so many fine houses here," Gatz said, pointing to a gaily-painted structure of concrete surrounded by a barbed wire fence, "there's clearly money in this town. Why don't you raise the money yourselves and build a dock on your own?"

Gatz, a specialist from the IDB's Nicaragua country office, had come to this seemingly idyllic community in Sandy Bay, Nicaragua, to talk about a new program to strengthen local government on the country's long-neglected Atlantic Coast region.

Gatz was in his element. No desk-bound bureaucrat, he had spent three hours in a small aluminum outboard to get here. It was a rough trip. As the boat followed the coast north from Puerto Cabezas, steep waves from an onshore breeze slammed against the hull, drenching the travelers and their belongings. Gatz and his companions hunkered down, shivering, and put their faith in the skill of the boatman. Accommodations that night would be a thin mattress on a bare board floor.

The meeting, held under the boughs of a mango tree, was cordial but frank. The people had heard promises before, and they were skeptical of outsiders–particularly those from the distant capital of Managua. Gatz, a veteran of getting things done at all levels, from ministries to village meetings, was clearly their match. He spelled out what the new program would and wouldn't do, and emphasized that the communities will be expected to contribute their share.

For development to be meaningful, said Gatz, the communities must be brought into a dialogue with their elected and appointed officials. This is the premise on which the new IDB-supported plan is based. Together, the central government and local communities must formulate priorities and help to plan development. No longer would the communities sit back and wait for the government to do things for them. (For more on the IDB program, go to the link on the right.)

The program also includes some funds for local projects, said Gatz. While it was too early for this community to formally propose a project of their own, the leaders of this village were happy to take advantage of Gatz's visit to test the waters.

After Gatz challenged them about funding for the dock, the village leaders came forth with a more ambitious project–a landing strip. It was necessary for medical emergencies, they explained. They even had a piece of land picked out, and invited Gatz to see it the next morning.

The curse of drugs. Gatz had come here not only to talk, but also to learn. As it happens so often, the simplest villages can harbor complex realities.

That evening, after the village leaders and their guests had finished a dinner of fish and sea turtle, one of the townsmen took a visitor aside. "Do you see all of those big houses?" he said, pointing out in the darkness toward a group of lavish dwellings, at least compared to the run of fishing communities in this poor region.

"You can't build houses like those with money from fishing. Years before, my grandmother was the only one with a big house, because she raised cattle. But the rest were just chozos, (hovels). "But then the drugs started coming in, and everybody got some, the elders, the young people, even the pastors."

This community was by no means an isolated example. Drug trafficking is a growing problem all along Nicaragua's Atlantic Coast. And the problem goes beyond trafficking. Local people are starting to use the drugs themselves, posing an additional threat to their communities.

In the south, in the village of Pearl Lagoon, former mayor Christopher Garth said his community had lost four people to drugs in recent months, including an 18-year-old victim of an overdose who had been buried just a few days before.

His village now finds itself in a dangerous situation, over which the people have little control, said Garth.

In the north, in the village of Waspam on the border with Honduras, the local representative of Acción Médica Cristiana, a church-based aid organization, has seen drugs gradually enter the traditional Miskito Indian communities. "There have been deaths and robberies," said Pilar Oporta. "A son steals beans from his family to get money to buy drugs. Before, communities were sacred, and now they have been profaned."

A risky location. The problem is largely one of geography. Nicaragua's Atlantic Coast lies on a transshipment route between drug producing and consuming countries. The communities do not ask to become part of the drug trade. In fact, a large portion of the contraband that arrives here literally comes out of the blue. When boats laden with drugs fear they are about to be apprehended, they toss their illicit cargo overboard. Fishermen find the packages floating on the water, or during periods of onshore winds they even turn up on the beach. Either way, the temptation is too great. The returns from selling drugs are far more than the people could get from fishing or from growing beans, corn and cassava. People get hooked, first economically, then physically.

How can people hope to improve life on the Atlantic Coast if drugs take an increasing toll on individuals and communities? When the IDB and Nicaraguan authorities planned the program to strengthen government, they also decided to carry out a drug prevention and awareness plan at the community level. This new initiative, being carried out with a $330,000 IDB grant, includes training for staff in the Ministry of Health, the Ministry of Education, local agencies and nongovernmental organizations, as well as activities to provide youths with alternatives to drug use, such as sports, music, and theater.

Even with the backing of the new IDB program and the support of many good people, the problems on the Atlantic Coast will not disappear easily. Gatz and others who know the region are prepared for a long struggle against drugs, poverty, and cynicism. But the government has taken an important first step, and the Bank is committed for the long run.

Date posted: July 2001